Shaky hands will greet you
But should the shanking go too far...
Let's hear that song
Inside your head
If it isn't too long
In the back of the shed
You shouldn't have read
How the new disease can harm you
Under the skin
A fragile bone
Who'd strangle a wren
With the cord from a phone
Who wouldn't condone
That subtle kind of curfew
Lord have mercy
Lord have mercy
Lord have mercy
We're living in a velveteen delusion
We'll be whatever we can make of it
Till we're real
Till we feel
Like we're real
Bleak thoughts are free
It fogs, it rains
Makes a come back at three
Paints some white on the stains
We haven't a pain
In the waning light of Tuesday
What's in the sack?
A want or a need
Or special visions to track
On a pallet of reeds
You don't have to bleed
Like a roller skating junior
Lord have mercy
Lord have mercy
Lord have mercy
We're living in a velveteen delusion
Later life
Will be whatever we can make of it
Till we die
Look alive
Till we die